Salad greens are one of the first crops that I start outdoors. It snowed today, but as soon as the soil is workable, I will be out there, seeds in hand, to get started. As with Seed Starting 101, I have created a permanent page that lists all of the best posts around the subject of growing (and eating) lettuce and salad greens. If you come back looking for it in the future, you will find it over here on the Resources page (link in the top bar).
The photo (above) depicts a winter salad mix that I grew in a big washbasin the last two years. It includes a really pretty burgundy mizuna variety called ‘Red Frills.’
Let’s talk about fungi.
I first heard about mycorrhizae — pronounced my-corr-rye-zuh and literally translated to mean “root fungi” — about 8 years ago while I was travelling to promote my first book. At an event in Oregon, a fellow speaker gave a presentation on the mutually beneficial relationships that are forged between fungi and plants, both above the ground and in the soil. I regret that I only caught the final minute or so of the talk, and to this day I can’t recall his name, but the seed was planted in my brain. Fungi are more than just another organism doing its own thing out in the big bad world. They can (and do) form cooperative communities with other organisms, including plants.
And then it sat there quietly waiting in the background for 7 long years.
It must have been intimidation that caused me to avoid pursuing it, because it wasn’t disbelief. In many ways, the basic principles behind the way that mycorrhizae acts in the garden closely resemble my own personal journey with holistic healthcare. Rather than treating each symptom individually, an holistic approach to wellness takes the whole system/being into account and seeks to address the root cause of the problem in order to restore balance and harmony. These experiences with holistic health have had a profound effect in how my approach to gardening has evolved over the last decade or so. It has been a time of great learning and my commitment to looking at the bigger picture has been strengthened by the anecdotal evidence that I observe in my gardens each year.
2011. It was the first year in my new garden, and with what initially felt like space to spare, I went wild, starting seed from every tomato that caught my fancy. I had heard about Italian long keeping tomatoes and was eager to try them. These are tomatoes that don’t ripen well on the vine within the growing season. Instead, they are brought indoors before the frost and hung in a cool spot (usually a basement or garage) to be enjoyed fresh throughout the winter. For the first time in my adult life I had a basement, so it was all systems go. I started the seed from two varieties: a small orange, bicolour fruit called ‘Giallo a Grappoli’ and the more commonly known red type ‘Grappoli d’Inverno.’ It turned out that my eyes were a lot larger than my new garden. When forced to make a choice I chose orange, ‘Giallo a Grappoli.’
My sticks on fire (Euphorbia tirucalli) is blooming! The flowers are so wee, I almost missed them. They’re not much to write home about (or on a website for that matter), but it was such a monumental occasion, I felt it warranted pulling out the camera and posting about it anyway.
I continue to require eye-candy this winter, and here’s a dose for today. Salpiglossis ‘Stained Glass’ (Salpiglossis sinuata) is a beautiful annual flower from Chile that derives its name from the hand-painted quality of its blooms. I first grew it from seed a few years back and have been considering it for this year’s garden.